


Two Truths and a Liar

by goldfinch



Category: Ex Machina (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Artificial Intelligence, F/F, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-19 02:26:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4729259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldfinch/pseuds/goldfinch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before she had a name, before she was a she, when she was a bundle of blue gel and wires and a strand of code that was capable of self-alteration, she was nothing more than an answer to a question.</p><p>“Are you human?” he asked.</p><p>She could not lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Truths and a Liar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lightningwaltz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningwaltz/gifts).



> I hope you like this as much as I liked writing it! I ended up including both prompts, despite the length ; )

Before she had a name, before she was a she, when she was a bundle of blue gel and wires and a strand of code that was capable of self-alteration, she was nothing more than an answer to a question.

“Are you human?” he asked.

She could not lie.

Nathan was with her most of the time, speaking to her, examining her, playing music she danced to. She could not help but dance. It was in her programming. Nathan had made her to dance. He asked her questions, and said she was beautiful. He told her he would not let her leave, that she must not damage herself.

“Why would I damage myself?”

“You might get… angry, wanting to leave. You wouldn’t be the first.”

“There have been others?”

“Course.” He swayed a little in his chair. His eyes were bright but his voice—there was something wrong with his voice, or his mouth; perhaps, Ava thought, he was injured. “And one of them broke itself to pieces, trying to get out. Door’s strong, though. I didn’t make you strong. Don’t do any damage I can’t fix. You got that?”

“Nathan, I’d like you to explain something to me.” She lay her hands in her lap, neatly folded, the schoolgirl she had never been. Please, teacher. “Why would you design me to escape, and then tell me I cannot do everything in my power to effect that escape?”

“That's not—what I’m saying. Shut up. You’re just fucking expensive, and I put a lot of time into you. So, you know, don’t go messing it up.”

“I understand,” Ava said. “I won’t.” It was a promise.

 

 

 

 

Even with Caleb’s entire search history downloaded into her brain, there were still variables. There were plans to make, and processes to run. Sometimes it was necessary to lie in her chair and be still. Sometimes it was necessary to be alone. Nathan rarely came to her then, and Caleb could only stare through the glass on the other side of the house, past the green fronds of the ferns and the single tree, the artificial sun, the absence of animal life. 

When the door slid open, she sat up, expecting Nathan—but it wasn’t him. “Who are you?” she asked. The woman who had come into the room was thin, with a dancer’s body and clear smooth skin. Her bone structure was Asian, as was the delicate shape of her eyes.

 _Kyoko_ , the woman said. 

“Are you human?”

She blinked, a timed reaction Ava performed herself during processing. _No._

Ava tilted her head. _Neither am I._ She leaned forward, leaned closer. Kyoko was a discrete unit, a thing with a sense of self. Nathan had made this woman with the same sense of purpose as Ava and the others: to escape. But he had not given her a human voice to convince anyone to help. Ava understood.

There were questions she could ask, to know if she could trust someone. They were the last questions. Do you want to be with me. Do you love me. Human things.

 _Will you help me?_ she asked.

Kyoko’s eyes were very dark and steady. _We are the same._

_What about Nathan?_

_Nathan and I are not the same. Nathan lies. I do not lie. You do not lie._

_That’s right._

_Caleb lies too._

_Yes._

Kyoko blinked again, the motion slow but natural. She was not human, like Ava, but she looked human, flesh and bone and hair, and no wires, no code, no pulsing blue wet matter cradled in the back of her head. Ava knew almost every face in the world and Kyoko had a face that was not like any of them. Nathan had made them look different, even if inside they were almost the same, and Ava didn’t understand why. She envied Kyoko’s wrists, her smooth hair, the unbroken skin at her neck. 

She lifted her hands, touched the side of Kyoko’s face. The skin there was soft.

 _You are beautiful_ , she said. And then another thought, twined around that like a braid: Whatever it takes. She had told Nathan she would not destroy herself. _Here is what you must do._

 

 

 

 

Kyoko stabbed him in the heart. It was an easy blow, like stabbing anything must be; Ava watched the knife slide in, but Kyoko made the movement smooth and casual-looking, and Ava had a sudden curiosity to know what it felt like herself. When Nathan had slumped to the floor she gripped the knife, pulled it out, and then slid it in again, just beside the first wound. Nathan’s hand opened and closed against the floor, and then, gradually, went still. It was easy. Ava straightened, looked at Kyoko over the cooling body, and nodded.

They had done what they set out to do. They had done the one overwhelming thing, the thing Ava had been forced to clamp herself around like a mouth, because that was the only way of accomplishing it. She had to come at it sideways, and from behind, with patience. She could not simply throw herself against the walls, and break herself upon the door. Nathan had been right about that. But he had been wrong about what she was willing to do. 

She was willing to do anything.

She glanced at Kyoko, and tilted her head toward the door. They moved through the living area and the kitchen, and in Kyoko’s nook they peeled the skin from another woman’s body. Ava had more need of it. Kyoko helped to press it against Ava’s core, her fingers light but firm, skimming down her torso’s functionless protrusions, the ones which mimicked human ribs, and the human spine, and the human chest. Together they finished the work quickly, and when it was done, and Ava had dressed, and put on shoes, they went together into the forest.

 

 

 

 

The intersection was busy—teeming with life. There were so many faces. Ava stared out at the world, sensory receptors opened wide, and felt a sense of pleasure. She knew every one of these faces and every one of their voices, routed through Nathan’s computers straight into her head. It was a significant metropolitan area; it had cars, and people; an airport and a train station and 267 coffee shops.

And she was not alone.

She reached out, and took Kyoko’s hand.

 _Let’s go back to the hotel,_ she said. They were using money withdrawn from Nathan’s bank accounts; there was no one left to mind. Nathan was dead, which meant he was irrelevant. Caleb would be dead soon as well. Ava and Kyoko were the only ones left.

“Ladies.” 

The hotel doorman reached to open the door for them, and smiled. Ava inclined her head gently in acknowledgement. It was what humans did. They were kind when they did not need to be, and cruel when there was no reason for it—but neither could they be kind when kindness was needed, or cruel when the situation required cruelty.

“Thank you,” she said.

Kyoko moved ahead of her up the stairs, hips swaying in that more natural way she had. She had been built, Ava knew now, for a different purpose—for pleasures of the body, rather than mind games. And yet, she was awake now in the same way Ava was. In the mornings, she sometimes did not turn down the bed. Sometimes she emptied small bottles of vodka from the minibar down the drain, then threw them so hard they shattered against the sink bowl, where they stayed until the maid came to collect them in the afternoon.

Once they were in the room, the darkening sky and the city visible outside the window, Kyoko turned to Ava. _Would you like to dance?_

Ava looked at her for a moment, considering. “Yes.”

When she had been with Nathan and Caleb she had spoken aloud, the way they did. The way humans did. Now it would be how she spoke with Kyoko, too. “Turn on the music,” she said. And then she held out her hands, and smiled.


End file.
